


Milk and Honey

by yarost



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Steve Rogers, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Community: cap_ironman, Lactation Kink, M/M, Omega Tony Stark, Possessive Behavior, Pregnancy, Semi-Public Sex, self-indulgent pwp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-07-03 14:50:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15821109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yarost/pseuds/yarost
Summary: Steve pulls back just enough to tease the nipple in his mouth with his teeth, pressing to the edge of cruel, and then laps at the liquid brought forth, melting Tony’s brain in the process. The Omega is a helpless mess now, his thighs wrapped around the Captain’s waist, grinding against him.“You’re so wet,” Steve purrs darkly, just before kissing the nipple he’s been abusing “so needy even when you’re already pregnant, you just can’t help yourself, can you Tony?”





	Milk and Honey

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to combine this prompt and  this one to write this fic. I love ABO prompts and I hope I did them justice.

 

 

Tony is too self-conscious ( _“it does something to a guy’s ego, being around super soldiers with perfect bodies all day”_ ) to let it show, so he hasn’t gained much weight. It isn’t just for aesthetics’ sake - being the only omega in a room full of Alphas, even in a state as progressive as NY is enough of a hassle as it is without a visible pregnancy. So the growing curve of his stomach rests tucked away beneath bespoke shirts and Tom Ford suits, and his scent is covered heavily by expensive cologne and Steve’s alpha musk, and he smiles and sass and teases, carefree like he isn’t entering his third trimester already.

There are things, however, that even the genius Tony Stark cannot hide.

It’s an excessively warm day in June and some of the men fan themselves with handfuls of documents while Ross yaps away. Tony hates these meetings but getting the rogue avengers pardoned has been no easy feat so he puts up with it, pretending to listen while texting Steve under the table.

_What do u want for dinner?_ He types, his fingers flying over a keyboard that is just light and colour in the air, a pocket version of the tech he has in his lab. Steve answers:

_Honestly? You._

Tony chuckles as silently as he can. Something about his pregnancy turned his Alpha, who usually borders on shy, into a _horndog._

_You look so beautiful like this,_ the Captain admitted one day, in the afterglow. On the bed, their bodies spent and tangled still, _I know it’s a cliché but I can’t keep my hands off you._

“Something funny, Stark?”

Ross asks, looking at him.

“Nothing, sir.”

Tony answers mechanically, a petulant smile on his face, while he thinks to himself: _Just the fact that you think you are a competent man and I care about anything you have to say._

He stretches after putting away his phone.  It’s _too_ warm, if not for his pregnancy he’d think he’s in heat. Ross’ words float vaguely; not reaching him even if he wanted them to and he unbuttons his suit, sitting straight is his chair and wincing slightly. It has been like this since the day before, a bloated feeling to his chest, his nipples sensitive, seeming raw against the cotton of his shirt. The mild discomfort turns now into a thin, blade-like pain, and his nipples feel warm and his breasts heavy.  Tony brings a discreet hand to his chest and the touch makes him wince again. When he looks up, one of the Alphas across the table is watching him with an expression he knows all too well: like he’s a ripe peach and the Alpha’s watering-mouth hasn’t tasted food for days.

The Omega rolls his eyes. If he had the suit on now, the red and golden one, that Alpha wouldn’t dare look at him like this.

Loosening his tie, Tony closes his eyes for a moment, wishing desperately for the meeting to end so he can lie naked in bed with the ac turned on. He knew what he was signing up for when he decided to carry Steve’s pups but still, it’s like his body isn’t quite his anymore, something he never thought he would experience outside of heats. His face reddens. The pressure thickens within his chest, so strong now he has to bite down a moan. _Fuck me_ , Tony thinks; the front of his shirt is _wet_.

Before he can fully register what just happened, the Alpha beside him sniffs the air and looks at Tony with poorly-concealed hunger.

A veil of dread rain downs on him as the air grows sweet with his milk and one by one all the Alphas (and the two lone betas in the meeting) turn their faces to him. Even Ross pauses and his nostrils flare almost imperceptibly. Tony is the low-hanging fruit everyone in this room hopes to taste.

Before the first hand can reach him, he stands up fast, aware that droplets of milk ran trail down his chest and the two damp spots around his nipples are transparent now.  He mumbles an excuse and hurries out of the room.

The corridors are blessedly empty.

“Fuck.” Tony curses once he’s in the bathroom (empty as well), pulling away the shirt to inspect the damage. His nipples are redder and _bigger_ , leaking and stiff, so sensitive to the touch that Tony whines when his fingers touch them. He looks at himself in the mirror: like this, his shirt opened just enough to show his breast, his face pink and his nipples glistening with milk, he looks slutty and just as fucked as he feels. Of course, his body responds. A thin trickle of wetness gathers at his ass now and his cock shudders slightly. _Whore_ , he thinks, implacable.

“Better call my knight in patriotic armour.” Tony grumbles annoyed. “Friday, call Winghead.”

He doesn’t like the idea of leaving the building alone, like this, and something disgustingly Omega, all needy and hormonal, wants his Alpha here, _now._ Pregnancy is a good excuse to indulge in all the traits he usually tries to supress like an overwhelming need for cuddles, ben and jerry’s and afternoon naps.

The phone starts to ring. It echoes, louder than it should. Its repetitive notes seem to be playing on the other side of the wall. Is Steve--?

“Tony?”

“Steve?”

And there he is. Still garbed in the blue of his uniform, all messy blonde hair and flushed cheeks.

Tony gapes at him and pulls the shirt together as best as he can.

“What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be on a mission.”

“Mission’s done. How do you think I was texting you?”

Huh. That makes sense.

“That was quick,” Tony muses, while Steve closes the bathroom door “even for Captain America. Must be a new record.”

Steve crosses his arms and presses them against his chest like he always does when he’s sheepish, blushing to the very tip of his ears.

“I’m very effective when I’m motivated.”  Steve says.

“Yeah? What’s the motivation?” Tony asks.

“Seeing you.”

_Oh._ The smile uncurls on the Omega’s lips, irrepressible. Steve is the earnest thing Tony has ever touched. His heart on his sleeve with every word.

The Alpha blushes even further _._ To distract Tony from it, he asks:

“Shouldn’t _you_ be on a meeting? And why are you--”

His Alpha inhales. His blue eyes widen, and he steps closer instinctively, trying to make sense of the smell. Milk and honey and the scent that is Tony alone, like rich, old wine. A meal of biblical roots, he could say, that turns decadent, ancient-Greek like when Tony’s in heat. But the sweetness peaks stronger today and Steve reaches out, gently, and pulls Tony’s hands from his chest, opening his shirt.

“You are nursing.”

He looks entranced. 

“Now you know why I had to ditch the meeting.” Tony explains, trying to sound light-hearted. Steve barely listens to him, his eyes following the extent of his prize: the redness, the gleaming of milk, the perkiness.

“You smell so good,” Steve murmurs, and seems to realise something, prying his eyes off Tony’s breasts and looking at his face “and you were in a room full of Alphas! Did any of them--”

“I’m ok! Nobody touched me.” _So endearing when he’s possessive,_ Tony thinks, letting a hand play lightly with Steve’s hair and his body ease itself in the familiar, comforting realm of his Alpha’s scent. The wetness thickens, as does his milk as he watches the greedy movement of Steve’s tongue wetting his lips. _Poor puppy._ Steve’s dying for it. He puts him out of his misery, his voice silky, almost an omegan purr: “But you may, _Alpha._ ”

“I thought it only started in the ninth month” Steve says, yet to touch the Omega’s breasts, hesitant, as if Tony could shatter if grazed by his want.

“Me too— _ah!_ Gently…” Tony moans when the Captain finally traces the outline of his nipple, wetting his finger in the process “Fuck, it took me by surprise. My shirt got wet in front of Ross, can you believe it? Like he needs another reason to be a pain in my ass.”

But Steve is barely listening. His touch is featherlight, just the hint of his thumb across Tony’s skin, but there’s something primal in his expression, in the darker hue of his eyes. Like the one Tony glimpses during his heats, when his Alpha is a different sort of creature, the kind that holds him down, pinning his wrists to the mattress and growls at his ear: _you’re mine, and you’re going to bear my children._

“I want to drink it,” The Alpha affirms and after a moment he’s taken aback by his own forcefulness. His eyes meet Tony’s again. “Let me drink it?” Steve asks, softer this time.

“Yeah,” Tony feels himself getting wetter “But I’m not sure if I’m producing enough--”

He yelps, his weak protest falling short as Steve lifts him up and sits him on the sink. Something primal in him too, something he fought against for a very long time – he used to take heat suppressors during most of his adult life. That loss of control. He hates it, he loves it. He loves it because it’s Steve. To be made putty in his hands as easily as that.

“You’re so beautiful.” Steve lowers his face to Tony’s chest, his breath against his flesh. One of his arms around Tony’s waist. “My beautiful, perfect Omega.”

And then Tony’s mind blanks for a moment, his pants as ruined as his shirt, because Steve is closing his mouth around Tony’s right nipple and _sucking._

It hurts, but the hurt reliefs and soothes too, that literal weight in his chest being drawn out by Steve’s hunger. And there’s pleasure, dizzying and filthy, because his nipples have always been sensitive and now even more so. His Alpha’s hand closes greedily around the neglected left breast and _squeezes_ until milk is pouring out from there too, and it’s so dirty that Tony whines and closes his eyes, arching his body, his hands gripping at Steve’s hair, his hips rubbing against him shamelessly.

Steve pulls back just enough to tease the nipple in his mouth with his teeth, pressing to the edge of cruel, and then laps at the liquid brought forth, melting Tony’s brain in the process. The Omega is a helpless mess now, his thighs wrapped around the Captain’s waist, grinding against him.

“You’re so wet,” Steve purrs darkly, just before kissing the nipple he’s been abusing “so needy even when you’re already pregnant, you just can’t help yourself, can you Tony?”

“Then do something about it, Capsicle” Tony bites back, yanking Steve’s hair back _hard._ The Alpha is smiling a filthy, self-satisfied smile, his cherry-red lips all wet with his Omega’s milk, a trail of a semi-transparent white dripping down to his chin.

Steve kisses him on the mouth. He tastes sweet on his lips, fading, a mere fragment of what Steve had to drink and all his greed will allow him.

Tony’s neck is kissed next and he remembers a time where hand-holding in public made Steve blush, that his were the smirks whenever he kissed the captain in front of the other Avengers, watching the Alpha’s skin turn pink. _I’ve corrupted him,_ Tony thinks. The bathroom door is closed but unlocked. Anyone could come in, anyone could see them, and maybe that’s what Steve wants as he fucking claims Tony in the most base of ways, biting him hard and deep where the mating mark lies, making Tony cry out. Maybe he wants to show those Alphas from the meeting – if any of them happens to wonder by – that Tony belongs to him alone. They’re fucking on the sink, for fuck’s sake.

His Alpha unbuckles his belt, pulls it along with Tony’s pants. All that nice, expensive Tom Ford thrown in a puddle on the floor. Tony’s ass sitting naked on the cold marble. Steve looks at his bare thighs, at the curve of his belly. Devoted, his pristine Irish boy of the last century, not a trace of Christian guilty when he falls for pagan gods. He loves Tony so much, enough to drive him mad.

“Spread ‘em.” Steve says, voice low.

Tony’s legs tease, spreading a little, but his knees remain close. He demands:

“Show me yours first, Alpha.”

He’s still in his uniform. All blue and white and red, looking at Tony as if he’s in a trance, babbling his sweet, tender dirty talking while he strips:

“You look so beautiful like this. I should keep you pregnant always; fill you with pup after pup like we did back in my days.  Would you like that my love? Would you let me fuck whole litters into you? Tony--”

They kiss again, Steve pressing his lips hard against Tony’s mouth, his hands harder still against his breasts. Tony gasps, and milk wets his Alpha’s palms, the curve of his fingers. His own hand wanders down, tracing Steve’s abdomen, until it curls around the Alpha’s erection. It’s warm in his hand, thick and growing thicker at the base where the knot is already ripening, which usually only happens when the Alpha is already _inside._

Tony chuckles, smiling against Steve’s ear when he teases:

“My tits really get you going, huh?”

The Captain groans, thrusting into Tony’s hand.

“Fuck, Tony…”

“Too bad I’m already pregnant or you could, you know, fuck _pup after pup_ into me…”

Steve positively roars and yanks his Omega to him, grabbing his wrist and tugging it away from his cock. Tony’s wetness taints the pretty marble when Steve pulls him near the edge. It’s filthy but he doesn’t really care, not at this point, he doesn’t care that people outside surely can hear them, and that there’s a walk of shame waiting for him after this, and that he will reek of his Alpha’s cum and tenure and he _loves_ it, he loves the way his legs wrap around Steve’s waist automatically and that their bodies meet and mould to one another and the Captain’s cock slides inside easily, perfectly, and he’s full and whole again gasping with a hint of pain, his hand clutching hard at Steve’s hair, his eyes open gazing at the blue of his.

His Alpha’s mouth curves in the smile that is entirely Tony’s, that same breathless joy he showed after they won against the Chitauri. _My first real smile,_ Steve confessed, moments before their first kiss, _since I woke up in this century, and it was for you._

“I love you” Steve tells him. It hits Tony; it always does, like the first time. That Steve had in him to love a creature like Tony. That a creature like Tony had in him to be loved.

“I love you too” Tony answers, aching a little with his own vulnerability, blushing in a way sex never gets him to blush. It is worth to be raw just to see Steve’s smile growing, his whole face alight as if Tony’s heart is a proper gift. It’s not the first time he’s said it to Steve either, but the Captain always reacts as if it is. As if he, too, doesn’t believe himself fit enough for love.

They begin to move. Steve takes his cock out all the way back and then buries it violently in one go, thrusting hard and deep inside Tony’s soaked core. Tony’s entire body trembles. He gasps, his eyes wide, and Steve has that look about him, pupils large and dark. When he takes the Omega’s nipple in his mouth he’s still looking at him. A drop of milk held in his tongue, which he drags along Tony’s sternum, across where the arc reactor used to be. There’s still a pale net of blue scattered on his skin. But beautiful is what Steve calls him.

“More,” Tony begs. He remembers the first rut Steve’s shared with him. How his body mellowed down into a heat to welcome everything his Alpha needed to give him. The colours after on his thighs, his neck, his wrists, his hips, his ass: purple, red, yellow, hints of green. So many bites he lost count. He could barely move in the last day of it; Steve became tender then, fucking him sweetly, their bodies gently swaying. High on his Alpha’s pheromones and the hunger of sex, and Tony could only babble, could only see… _oh. I love him, I love him so much._ A print of Tony’s saliva on the pillow, his hair wet, Steve’s hair wet, his heated cheek against Tony’s back. He kept going until Tony was an overstimulated mess under him. Until he could speak no more words.

Steve pounds him now, finally unrestrained, his cock thrusting against Tony’s prostate, making the Omega mewl and whine. His fingers pinch Tony’s nipple, cruel almost, and more milk comes out. Tony sobs, his eyes wet with tears. Again Steve tongue darts out, his mouth seeking his Omega’s breast, and again he drinks from him, with an eagerness that pushes Tony over the edge, his omegan cock untouched. He clenches around Steve, moaning brokenly as he comes. Vaguely he feels Steve’s smile against his skin. He comes again a few moments later, when Steve knots him, whimpering with the overstimulation. Steve’s pumps inside him and groans, his teeth closing around the mating mark on Tony’s neck.

They stay still. Steve’s hand lingers over Tony’s belly. He puts his chin over the Omega’s shoulder, waiting for his breathing to calm and his knot to deflate.  

“You’re gonna have to carry me out,” Tony comments after a while, his voice muffled by Steve’s neck. Steve chuckles, feeling the soft, light touch of the other avenger’s lips on his skin. “My legs are jelly. Hope you’re proud.” Tony adds.

“Keep saying things like that and I’ll get hard again.”

Tony groans.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that? You and your stupid super-soldier stamina.”

“Speaking of which,” Steve says, pulling away just enough so he can look at Tony “if our kid turns out like me you’ll be feeding _two_ super soldiers in no time.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.” The Omega replies, a little dismayed. It’s easy to picture: Steve sucking from one breast, in the same greedy way he was today. His child from the other. A blonde child, probably. Or a dark-haired one, with Steve’s eyes. A being so small and sweet Tony will doubt it’s really his, someone he’ll love – already does – with fearful tenderness, as if one wrong move could taint them forever. He doesn’t want to make his father’s mistakes.

Steve, however, looks at him like a playful golden retriever, entirely comfortable with the role of father. He has insecurities but none as deep as Tony’s. _I’ve always wanted kids,_ he told Tony when they found out he was expecting, _Thank you. Tony… you just gave me a home._

Tony smiles and lets himself be contaminated by his Alpha’s ease.

“I can’t wait to meet them.” Steve tells him softly, his hand caressing his Omega’s belly.

“Don’t drink all their food.” Comes Tony’s half-hearted complain.

“I won’t.” Steve promises, but his hand moves upwards, and squeezes Tony’s breast once more. “After they are born. Until then…”

The sentence ends by the closing of Steve’s lips around his Omega’s nipple. Tony groans, and lets him.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> As always, kudos and comments are very welcomed.


End file.
